[aVorbiss]: 642.Poetry.After You

When love ceases, what's left?
Are there mornings, or would a sun rise?
Or would a shadow of ever-darkness be love's theft?
Are there twilights with sunsets?
Or a forever blackened sky, here, occupy?
When times get to their worst,
and tides never seem to turn right,
When love ceases, what's left?

After love, there's nothing.
All seems in vain, no sense in breathing.
Spending painful times in rainless nights,
With no one to allow me last rights,
After love, there's nothing.

When life ceases, what's next?
Are there daybreaks and sunsets?
Or does night's cloak envelope day's glory?
Is a heart peresent, or mind to retain the story?
When times get to their worst,
and the waves crash down,
When life ceases, what's next?

After life and love there's nothing.
No longer all those pains, no more writhing.
Full of vain, out in the cold stabbing rain.
With no more meaning to last rights,
After life, after love, there's nothing.

When time stops, what'll call the shots?
Are there seconds, minutes, or hours?
Do withered things continue their rot?
Are there day, weeks, or months?
When years cease, what's left?

And in darkness encircling,
And shadows all taunting,
And in night's cloaked sway, enveloping,
With all connectings failing,
What light would one have?
What hope could possibly not be flailing?

One must cling though.
One must sing though.
For that flicker will cease darkness' snickers,
One must realize that after anything, there's something.

And after loving and having loved,
There's being loved and receiving love.

For cycles remain cyclic,
Just as sun chases moon,
night chases day,
And I'd have it no other way.